I've Been Dying for You to Let Me Be Yours
by chalantness
Summary: He's just such a good person, and it's stupid that she finds his sweet, proper personality incredibly sexy.


**Title:** _ I've Been Dying for You to Let Me Be Yours  
_**Rating:** NC-17  
**Word Count:** ~3,000  
**Characters:** Tim/Stephanie  
**Summary:** He's just such a good person, and it's stupid that she finds his sweet, proper personality incredibly sexy.

****** I've Been Dying for You to Let Me Be Yours**

Dick's place is freakishly clean considering he has people over every weekend. And she's not exaggerating when she means _every weekend_, because if they're not having dinner at the mansion, they're having it here because Zatanna found a few new recipes online and wanted to share them.

And no, Stephanie's not under any impression that Dick and Zatanna aren't stupidly in love with each other. They _are_. They're just totally unaware of it, or at least pretend to be, for whatever reason. He says it's because they have a complicated history and work better without the labels, which, yeah, Stephanie understands. But they already _act_ like newlyweds. Paparazzi and gossip columnists ask all the time whether they eloped or something. Then there's the fact that almost all of Zatanna's stuff is in his house even though she has her own apartment, which is something Stephanie knows because she's a snoop and will totally admit to it if Dick asks her. She's sure he already knows, but he's not trying harder to keep her out, so whatever.

She takes it as permission to keep snooping.

That's how she found _this_ room.

She wandered downstairs last weekend and noticed a door half-hidden behind a shelf of paperbacks, but didn't have a chance to actually go inside at the time because then Cassie came to get her for dessert. The room's bigger than she expected and fits two (_two!_) pool tables with a lot of space still leftover. The only other things in here are a few plastic bins of snow gear stacked in the corner next to a black leather couch and, across the room, there's a fridge stocked with beer and vitamin water and cabinets filled with non-perishables.

She's sort of just shooting around right now with her phone on the other pool table and her playlist on shuffle. She won't be down here for long, just wanted to get some air because it got really stuffy and hot upstairs, not because she's anti-social or anything.

Anyway.

She's only been downstairs for about twenty minutes when the door opens and Tim walks inside. He's got a hand in his pocket and that adorable smile on his face that she's more of a sucker for than she pretends to be.

"Are you hiding from me now?"

She laughs because she can tell he's teasing her, but also because it's basically the furthest thing from the truth.

This thing with Tim is…

It's kind of confusing. They're definitely friends, maybe even _best_ friends, because they spend all this time together and she tells him almost everything without ever having to worry about how he'll react or if he'll judge her. He somehow manages to be the only person that gets her, even though he tells her all the time that she's hard for him to read. Then there's also this little flirtation thing between them that's fun and makes her feel giddy. The mood of her entire day doesn't depend on whether or not they hang out, because hell no, she's not one of _those_ girls. She's a generally happy person and Tim just makes her a little happier, is all. But lately, the flirting has been making her feel… _different_.

Basically, almost every time they talk, she kind of wants to jump his bones. It's not like she's horny all the time or is only interested in him because she's in it for the sex, because Tim is hardly _that_ guy. It's one of the best things about him, honestly. He's just such a good person, and it's stupid that she finds his sweet, proper personality incredibly sexy.

(She's a teenage girl with hormones. Sue her.)

So, yeah, another reason she came down here was because she was about to do something stupid like kiss him in a roomful of their friends. They were sitting next to each other on the couch and his hand somehow ended up on her knee, and she tried really hard to ignore how he kept absently running his thumb over her skin while they were talking with Bette and Artemis, but it was basically impossible. He wasn't tipsy or anything, but Dick let them drink vodka coolers (which was basically lemonade with like, two drops of vodka) and she's assuming that had something to do with why he was touching her like that. It's not like she minds it at all, but usually he's way more careful about respecting people's personal space.

"Of course," Tim adds, closing the door behind him, "if you _were_ trying to hide from me, I wouldn't have found you so easily."

She rolls her eyes, mutters, "You'd have more luck than me trying to find _you_," loud enough for him to hear. (It's one of their inside jokes, because they were talking about stealth one night and ended up debating who'd be the best at hide and seek. They never came to an agreed answer, but she eventually admitted she'd probably get caught before him.)

She expected him to laugh and make some witty remark in return or something along those lines.

But he says, "I'd never try hiding from you," and she meets his eyes. He's standing right in front of her now, hand within inches of hers atop the edge of the pool table. His other hand grasps the pool cue between them, his skin brushing against hers as he tilts his head a little and adds, "Though, I really like the idea of being found by you."

She bites her lower lip.

Well, shit.

He pulls the cue from her hand and lets it drop to the floor, takes a step closer and slides his hand over the curve of her hip. She wants to ask what's happening, but she's also kind of afraid to break him out of whatever trance he's in. His thumb is tracing over the waistband of her leggings through the thin material of her sweater dress and she's not exactly complaining about how it feels, the barely there pressure ghosting over her skin. He could just be drunk, except she honestly thinks that's not the case. There's a bit more color in his cheeks than usual, but his eyes are focused on her, breathing steady, posture perfect. She knows what a drunken teenaged boy looks like, even if they're only a little buzzed, and Tim is perfectly sober. He's definitely not unaware of how he's acting right now.

"Tim, what are you…"

She trails off, though, when he lifts his other hand off of the pool table and grasps her chin gently. "Am I being too forward?" he asks, barely above a whisper, and she wants to laugh because that's _so_ like Tim – asking for permission even if he's making the move – but she just shakes her head, unable to find her voice. "I'm going to kiss you, Steph."

She barely has time to nod before he presses their lips together, this sound coming from the back of her throat as she closes her eyes and kisses him back. He moves his hand from her chin, sets his palm against her neck, and she grasps the front of his shirt with one hand, tugs at his collar with the other as she tilts her head and kisses him a little harder. Then she squeals a little bit, dissolves into a giggle when he suddenly circles an arm around her waist and lifts her so she's sitting on the edge of the pool table, all in one swift motion. She wraps her legs around his waist, sets her hands on his shoulders and tilts her head a little. The smile he's giving her can only really be described as a look of total adoration. It's _sexy_.

And she loves it a lot more than she knows she should.

She's also wondering why… why _now_, all of a sudden? Or, maybe it's not all of a sudden, because they've had this _thing_ between them for almost as long as she's known him. But lately he's sometimes acted a little differently, and she's been worried that maybe he's lost interest because she's not trying harder or…

Tim kisses her lips gently, snapping her from her thoughts as he murmurs, "Stop thinking."

He knows her so well.

It's _scary_.

"Do you really want this?" she asks.

"Silly," he chuckles, kissing her again. "Of course I do. Do you?" She nods, feeling herself smile. "So stop overthinking things."

"That's funny," she says, closing her eyes as he presses his lips to her throat. "Usually _I'm_ the one telling you that."

He chuckles against her skin but doesn't say anything, sliding his lips downward, and her eyes flutter closed at the kisses he's pressing to her skin. She grips his arm and lets out this little sound as he nips at her skin, arching her back and causing her to brush over where he's hard for her. He groans. She giggles, then dissolves into a whimper and braces a hand against the pool table when he sucks down on her pulse. His hand slides under her dress and over her hip and she lifts herself up a little, just enough for him to slide her panties and leggings down her legs. They get stuck at her ankles a little, but she kicks off her ballet flats – a little too eagerly, considering Tim's chuckle, but whatever – and he pulls them off.

She's totally wet and she'll feel a little bit guilty later about doing this on Dick's pool table, but he's got another and honestly, all she cares about right now is Tim. He kisses her gently again, then once, twice, three more times, each a little harder than the last, until she's squirming and her skin is flushed and she's whining, "_Tim, please_."

(She never, ever _whines_, but it seems appropriate here.)

He pushes gently at her shoulder until she's lying down on her back, then presses a hand against her thigh and spreads her legs apart. She lets out this little breath and bites down on her lip in anticipation as he presses a kiss to the inside of her thigh, then a little higher and a little higher, until he's licking a slow stripe up her center and she's moaning softly.

She scrapes her nails along the green cloth, desperate to grab onto something – _anything_ – as he's rolling his tongue over her too gently for her liking and driving her crazy.

"Tim, _Tim_," she whimpers.

He pushes his tongue into her and her hips jump. He chuckles, lays his forearm over her pelvis to pin her down. "Stay still," he tells her, then pushes his tongue into her once, twice more, making her squirm and push her fingers through his hair. "You taste amazing, Steph."

Of course he's the kind of guy that compliments during sex. And of course it kind of makes her love him even more.

"_You're_ amazing," she breathes, because he is and he deserves to hear it. And she's not sure if it's a reward or a thank you or _something_, but he flattens his tongue over her nerves without warning and she lets out this soft yelp and tugs at his hair. Then he sucks her clit, gently first, and then a little harder and a little harder, and she moans, "Fuck, Tim, _yes_."

He's _really_ good at this. She's not sure if she wants to find out if it's natural talent or from experience…

She's close, too. She can feel it, and with him alternating between pushing his tongue into her and flattening it over her clit, it won't take much more.

Then he pulls his mouth off of her completely.

She whimpers, "_Tim_," and then practically squeaks in surprise when he licks right next to her bundle of nerves. Shit. She wasn't expecting him to _tease_ her like this.

He kisses up and down her thigh, and then does the same with the other, and she lets out this little noise from the back of her throat. She hears him tug his zipper undone, and she licks her lips because, for a second, she thinks he's going to climb on top of her so he can be inside of her. But then he rolls his tongue through her wet folds and groans against her sex, and she moans because, _oh god_, is he… Is he stroking himself while going down on her? The thought makes her moan even louder, it's so hot, and she feels her body tremble.

She comes with his name being chanted from her lips, tugging at his hair as he rolls his tongue over her through her orgasm. She tries rolling her hips against his mouth, but it's hard like this, especially when he's still got his forearm pinning her down, so she just arches her back and spreads her legs and moans as she feels another orgasm wash over her.

She has to push him away to get him to stop. She doesn't want him to stop, to be honest, but she needs to catch her breath.

He climbs onto the pool table and she can't help but smirk when she sees that he's pulled his pants back on, though they're still unzipped and his belt is still unbuckled. He kisses her and she whimpers a little at the taste of herself on his lips. It's totally hot. She loves this new side of Tim.

She reaches between them, pushes her hand passed the waistband of his boxers and wraps her fingers around his length, and he groans and breaks their kiss.

"Steph, stop," he says. She meets his eyes and finds him smiling sweetly at her. Then he kisses her in the middle of her forehead and mumbles, "Can I go inside?" against her skin.

She whimpers. She's a _total_ sucker for his politeness. Maybe it's cliché, but whatever.

She pushes his boxers and pants down his hips, which she thinks is enough of an answer, but she still leans up and kisses him and says, "Yes, you can," against his lips. He starts reaching into his pocket for something (a condom, most likely) but she shakes her head, grasps his length again and guides him to her entrance.

"Steph…"

"I'm on the pill," she reassures. "And I trust you."

That pretty much goes without saying, but she told him, anyway, because she knows he still likes to hear it.

So he sinks into her and her eyes snap shut and they're both moaning at the same time. It's gentle at first, and she loves that he's always, always taking care of her, but then he pulls out of her and pushes back in a little rougher and a little rougher each time, like he's slowly losing his restraint, and she digs her nails into his arm as she moans, "_Yes_, yes."

"_God_," he breathes. She rolls her hips up against his and he mutters a curse, says, "Feels amazing, Steph," right before angling his hips and thrusting into her harder and deeper.

_Fuck_.

She really loves this new side of Tim, too.

Honestly, she does. She absolutely loves how much of a gentleman he is, especially since she's been in the field with him, has trained with him, and she knows he has the capability to be rough but stays calm and collected, anyway. Maybe that sounds silly, but she really _does_ love that about him. But she also loves that he knows when to let go and give up control every once in a while, because he deserves that, too. And, as he's pushing in and out of her roughly, muttering curses against her skin as he's kissing and nipping her throat almost in time with his thrusts, she loves that she's able to be with him like this. She scrapes her nails down his back through his clothes and rolls her hips up in time with his thrusts and whines, "_Tim_," when he grazes her spot. She can tell the first time is an accident, but then he shifts and grazes it once, twice, three more times, until she's chanting his name.

"I'm close," he says, and it comes out breathless and gravelly, and she tugs him up by his hair to kiss him.

"Me too," she tells him. It would be embarrassing – she's come twice already and is close to a third – but it's Tim. She knows she never has to be embarrassed with him.

A few more thrusts and she feels him let go inside of her, but his hand comes between them and his thumb is rubbing circles over her bundle of nerves and she's coming only seconds after him, digging her nails into his biceps as he keeps rolling his hips against hers, fucking her shallowly through their orgasms.

They stay like this, pressed together with only his elbows propped up on the table keeping his weight mostly off of her, until their breathing is kind of normal again.

"You okay?" he asks, bringing a hand up to push some hair from her face.

She smiles and nods, sets her hands on either side of his face and kisses him again, gently and entirely too innocently considering what they just did. He kisses her back, tracing his tongue against her and then pushing it passed her lips when they part for him, and honestly, if you give it a few minutes, she's pretty sure they could go at it again.

But then he breaks their kiss, runs his hand over her hair and says, "We should get back to the party, before they come looking for us."

She nods because she knows it's true but still whimpers when he pulls out of her. He finds a package of napkins in one of the cabinets – which isn't all that surprising, because this is _Dick's_ house and his room and he's creepily prepared for everything – and they clean themselves up, toss the napkins into the trash can before straightening their clothes up again.

"They'll know that we… You know."

She giggles a little and shakes her head. "It's fine."

"It's fine because they'll be fine with it or because they won't be able to tell?"

"It's _fine_," she says again. He gives her a look, but she laughs and kisses his lips again. "What happened to not overthinking things?"

He just chuckles and holds the door open for her. 

* * *

**Prompt:** _Imagine your OTP making love for the first time. On a pool table._


End file.
